Of Cooking and Fire Alarms
by nighttimerunner
Summary: "Sure, it was the forty-eighth time he had called in the last two months, but he couldn't be the worst case they'd had. Right? He can't be the only person in New York who keeps burning their dinner." An AU Caskett meeting.


**A/N: **This is written for a prompt I found on endingcas' list on Tumblr.

Thank you, Dia, for the beta-read. You are awesome! :)

**Disclaimer: **Don't own them.

**Prompt: **'Sorry I set the fire alarm in our building off again for the forty-eighth time I was trying to cook' AU

* * *

><p>The knock on his door sounds just as he hangs up the phone after his call to the doorman. Eduardo had been very understanding when he was informed that, <em>yes once again<em>, it was just a false alarm. At least the man hid his amusement much better than the fire department.

Sure, it was the forty-eighth time he had called in the last two months, but he couldn't be the worst case they'd had. _Right?_ He can't be the only person in New York who keeps burning their dinner.

Shaking his head at the mountain of dishes in his kitchen, he takes the last few steps and pulls the door open.

_Oh. Great._

Of all the possible visitors, the gorgeous brunette from the apartment across the hall was the last person he wanted to see right now. Ironic, considering how he has been hoping for an opportunity to talk to her ever since he moved eight weeks ago.

"Hi," she says and the way it sounds like a question makes him realize he has been staring at her silently for too long. He can feel his face heat up in embarrassment and then even more when she quirks a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. By now he must be the color of a fire truck. _No pun intended._

"Um… You okay?" she asks, stopping his brain from coming up with more fitting metaphors.

"Yeah, uh… Yes, everything's okay... Hi!" he stammers and swallows back the groan at how idiotic he sounds. And his agent thinks the playboy image is "so him". Obviously Paula hasn't witnessed any of these proud moments. To her credit, his neighbor manages to keep a straight face, but he can see a flicker of amusement dance in her hazel eyes.

Okay, time to regain some dignity.

"Sorry about that. You caught me at a slightly hectic moment," he says waving a hand in the direction of his kitchen. "Apparently there's a reason I became a writer and not a chef." His attempt at a joke is rewarded with her warm chuckle.

"I can see that. Are you trying to prepare some kind of culinary masterpiece that only three people in the world have succeeded in making?" she asks and he blushes again.

"You might think so, but actually today I was trying to master the fine art of chocolate chip pancakes. The day before yesterday, the alarm was caused by my mac and cheese," he says with a shrug, looking down at his shoes.

"I know they're simple foods," he continues quickly. "But Mother isn't exactly a role model in the kitchen - never has been - and ordering in or eating out is so easy. I could probably live like that for the rest of my life and be happy, but I have to think about Alexis. She's growing up so fast, she starts kindergarten soon, and I've read about the right kind of nutrition she needs…" he trails off when realizes he's rambling.

Slowly, he raises his eyes, hoping he hasn't scared her with his mini-rant. But he sees only understanding reflected in her eyes.

"This might sound a little forward, but I know my way around a kitchen pretty well. I could maybe teach you some basics to get you started, if you'd like," she suggests hesitantly and it's all he can do to stop himself from letting out a massive whoop.

Trying to act cool, he replies, "I couldn't ask you to do something like that. I mean, you've heard the alarms, it won't be easy."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Besides, it'll be a chance for me to refresh my skills. Cooking for one often feels like a waste of effort, so I mostly just order in. It'll be fun for me, too," she assures and he lets some of his poker-face slip.

"In that case, it's a deal!" he exclaims and offers a hand to her. "I can start whenever. Well, I think I need to do some washing first, but anytime after that," he says, eager to spend time with her, to learn from her.

She laughs as she gives his hand a brief shake. "Based on the smell, I think you'll need tonight to scrub everything clean. But I have the day off tomorrow, so why don't I come over around noon and we'll make lunch together. That sound okay to you?" she asks and he agrees quickly. To be honest, he would have agreed to anything as long as she kept smiling like that.

"I'm Rick, by the way," he says when she turns and crosses the hallway.

"I know," she winks at him over her shoulder and he's pretty sure his heart skipped a beat, or four. "I'm Kate," she continues as she turns the handle and enters her apartment.

"Bye Kate," he says before she has the chance to close her door.

"Until tomorrow, Rick," she calls back. He catches the last glimpse of her smile just before the door clicks shut and he's left standing in the hallway alone.

The bell of the elevator breaks through his haze and he turns to see his daughter skip towards him, his mother following behind.

He scoops up Alexis, kisses Martha's cheek and together they retreat to the loft. Suddenly, a night spent washing dishes doesn't sound so bad at all.

* * *

><p>Four months later Kate, Alexis and his mother sit around the table as he serves them a homemade dinner. It's not the first night they've eaten together, but it's the first proper meal he's prepared alone from the scratch.<p>

The food receives high praise from everyone, especially from Kate who admits to having warned the FDNY of the evening. All three women burst out laughing at his indignant look and assure him they expected nothing less than amazing results.

He directs some of the compliments to Kate, reminding them that her talent - and patience - is the reason for the night's success. He promises to name a character after her in his next book and delights in the faint blush that rises on her cheeks. He knows Kate's a fan. She'd let that tidbid slip during one of their lessons. He still teases her about it sometimes, but tonight he lets her be as he joins his daughter in planning the new character.

At the end of the night, he walks her to her door, a habit they've developed during the past few months.

"I'd like to take you out to dinner sometime, as a thank you," he says before she has the chance to disappear to her apartment.

"I thought tonight was about that, Castle," she says coyly and bites her lip in that adorable way.

"Right. In that case, I'd like to take you out to dinner sometime, on a date," he says, feeling more nervous than he has since the first lesson.

She doesn't answer right away, making him sweat with her poker face that's even better than his. But then her mouth widens in a brilliant smile and she says, "Okay, a date."

His answering grin is automatic. "I'll call you about the details tomorrow, okay?" he asks and steps closer as she nods.

"Good night, Kate," he says and presses a soft kiss to her cheek, near the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes sparkle with happiness as she wishes him good night before entering her apartment.

He returns to his loft, locks the door and walks straight to his office. A story is brewing in his mind, demanding to be written down. The dishes will have to wait.

**End.**


End file.
